Carnal Spark
by Away From Sanity
Summary: It's been two years... Trish has abandoned him. Self destruction welcomes him. Dante's falling fast. Who can pick him back up? !Yaoi. Dante x ?. Sometime after the first game.!
1. Self Destruction

Carnal Spark

_In these demon days_

_It's so cold inside_

_It's hard for a good soul to survive_

_You can't even trust the air you breathe_

+First Spark: Self-destruction+

_It'e been two years..._

A broken man sat upon a scuffed-looking wooden floor, a shot of amber liquid withing arm's reach, a stick of cancer stuck between his sculpted lips. His eletric-blue eyes bore into the heavy, oak desk not five feet from him, looking glazed over and lost to reality. Subconsciously, his eyes watched as a slow trail of grey smoke rose seductively in the air, mingling in with his silver-white bangs that hung in his face. A well-muscled, creamy white arm drapped across his drawn-up, jean-covered knee, twitched involuntarily due to the fact that it had otherwise not moved whatsoever in ten minutes. The ashes of the half-smoked cigarette fell onto his other jean-covered thigh, ultimatley falling onto the floor into a small pile. His once beautiful, mischeivious eyes drifted over to the long piece of metal he had been twirling for the past fifteen minutes.

_Alastor..._

The winged demon-hilted sword thrummed with electrical current at its master's call. It had been quiet throughout the whole ordeal, not reacting, but waiting for the moment it would be reduced to some homely utensil. It waited in seething patience, when it would partake in its master's daily ritual. Of course, in some way, the sword enjoyed the attention. Work had been slow and it hadn't feasted on the blood of defeat in quite a while...

_I don't want to feel this way anymore..._

Dante Sparda, 25, sat now a broken shell of a the cocky, laid-back, fun-loving demon slayer he had once been. He lifted Alastor from the spot on the wooden floor it had been scarring, and took his other arm away from his knee. He observed the activity in front of him with no amount of interest. He had been doing this for weeks. There was no fasicination that it withheld in it. The ecstasy it once gave him, was slowly fading. Soon, he would have to find other means of self-destruction...

But for now, his wrist would suffice. He stared at the sliced open gap that now marred his smooth, otherwise perfect skin. It pooled blood onto the floor, but he didn't mind; didn't care. It didn't hold a candle to how bad his soul bled. He could already see the wound was stitching itself up anyway. He didn't curse his powers though, but it was his only link. His only living proof that he once had a brother; had a family.

It was his only reminder of his beloved, Vergil.

Dante didn't cry. Demons don't cry and the part of his that was human, was off floating around dead somewhere. The broken man held his cherised sword in front of him, and smiled, but not for himself, just for Alastor. He kissed the flat side of the blade, where a line a blood could be seen.

_Thanks, buddy..._

The sword flickered to life, small bolts of electricity licking at Dante's lips and skin. The ehcanted element was a calming thing, when it mingled in his body, made his blood boil. It was like some twisted drug. Dante knew he was addicted...

After he had cleaned up his mess, the demon slayer took a shower, basking the smoldering heat of the droplets that beat down on him. With Alastor away from his grip, his mind soon drifted back to Vergil and all the pains that came with the memories. He slumped against the bottom of the shower stall, pulling his knees to his chest and laying his head against them. His eyes went back to staring into space, memories of Vergil's death playing in front of his blue irises like a bad snuff film. He didn't cry. He had stopped crying a long time ago. He involuntarily cringed everytime he saw his sword plunge into the dark knight's glowing armor for the last ime. His eyes twitched when the sound of metal piercing flesh flew back into his ears. He could feel the warmth of the other's blood on his fingers, even though it was the ridiculously hot water playing around them.

_Vergil..._

Twenty minutes later, and skin scalded but not caring, Dante stepped from the shower, black towel barely slung around his waist. Walking towards the doorframe, he noticed himself in the mirror for a second. He was becoming a little thinner by the day. He had tried eating--he really had--but he just couldn't stomach anything lately. It had been nothing but alcohol and cigarettes for the past few days. The silver-haired demon barely noticed the dark rings under his eyes, which he had gotten from when he couldn't sleep for days on end in fear of being haunted.

Dante trudged out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, immediatley falling onto the bed below him. The old springs hardly groaned in protest since he had lost so much weight. He stared over into the corner where Alastor was currently proped. Dante off-handedly wondered why the damn thing hadn't killed him when it had a chance. Dante wondered a lot of things like that, but that soon made him drift to sleep, where more dreams of his own flesh blood were being torn asunder...

Dante expected Vergil's image to haunt his dreams when he had drifted off for a nap. He _knew_ he would continually play that same scene over and over again until his mind forced him to be awake again. But, for some reason, none of that happened. All he could feel was the cool static that was Alastor surging through his body, crawling along every vein, tickling up his spine and registering as sparks of pleasure. It had been awhile since he had felt even half this alive. He cherished the feeling, sat completely still, letting the electricity dance in his blood, making him feel warm and alive again.

Dante smiled. This time, for himself.

And the electricity reacted to his happiness. It pulsated a little stronger, making him tingle all over.

_Alastor_...

A pleasant feeling coursed through his lips. He sighed in contentment. The fleeting feeling return, making his lips tingle. The touches of electricity lowered themselves to his neck, his collarbone, his chest... Dante moaned.

"_Master..._" Dante's eyes shot open.

Dante quickly sat up in his bed, panting a little from the experience. His eyes darted from thing to thing in his almost empty room, finally landing on his trusty sidekick, Alastor. He had so clearly felt the electricity in his veins, felt it dance. Then he had heard someone mutter 'Master' breathily. It was just a dream...just a dream... Dante looked the black towel that had somewhat fallen off of him and tinted red for a couple seconds.

For the first time in weeks, Vergil was nothing more to him than by-gones...

------------------

And now, a word from the author: OMGWTFLMAO!

And now, a _sensible_ word from the author: Whoo-hoo! Dante slashiness. But with who! -gasp- You probably all guessed by now. Please don't flame me with how you don't like an angsty Dante. Those will throughly be ignored. Don't worry, he'll eventually bounce back. By the way, Devil May Cry is (c) Capcom.


	2. Till I Break

**Carnal Spark**

_I walk alone_

_I am alone_

_I think alone_

_I'll die alone_

_Don't think I can make it on my own_

_I think I need someone to save me…_

_--Staind "Break"_

+Second Spark: Till I Break+

It was safe to say Dante did not sleep well that night. His mind was still reeling from his earlier episode. It wasn't like he didn't want to sleep. Oh no. Dante had wanted nothing more than to drift to dream land, to be out of this reality. It was only in his dreams that he could see Vergil's image, could be reminded of the his earlier memories of life, before everything went to shit. Only, tonight that wasn't the case. Every time he would drift to sleep, and wait to be haunted by his brother—by his own image—he would be taunted, teased by tingles of electricity. He knew it was Alastor, knew it was the demon trying to get at his nerves. At one time in the night, while he was half-asleep, he had told Alastor:

_Knock it off, damn you._

Alastor did not stop. The dreams just got worse. He forced himself to stay awake. Soon, after a couple days of this, he found himself scared to even be alive. While he was awake, he was reminded of Vergil's death, it playing in front of his eyes all the while. While he slept, Alastor would creep under his skin, make him feel alive, if even for a little while. Dante hated that, because it made him happy. Happiness was a luxury that he did not deserve.

And so, for being happy, he was punished. In the day, he feared his brother's ghost and at night, he feared something akin to molestation. Slowly, but surely, it was breaking down whatever was left of Dante Sparda.

-vvvvv- 

Dante hadn't slept in days. It showed as he picked up the phone, which had started collecting dust. Even after the caller had relayed the password, Dante was silent. His brain seemed to move at a sluggish pace. Sounds that we not two inches from him seemed to be miles away, fuzzy and through a pillow.

"Hello?" Dante's tongue stuck to his the dry roof of his mouth. At least he had started eating.

"…Uh, sorry." The speaker waited for a moment before continuing. He half-wondered if he had caught the great demon slayer half-asleep.

"Mr. Dante, I have a serious demon infestation. A mansion belonging to my ancestors has been taken-over by demons. The ring-leader seems to holing himself inside the basement somewhere." Dante took minutes to register this. The caller began to worry.

"…What?" In an exasperated voice, the caller repeated what he had previously said. Dante understood it a little better. After another moment of gathering his wits, and an exasperated sigh from the caller, Dante asked the man for directions. The man, getting the gist of it now, repeated them twice, incredibly slow. The demon slayer, not entirely trusting his brain or his ears at the moment, got out a pen and wrote them down. He assured the man he would make it there in a little. With newfound confidence in the task taker, the man hung up, letting Dante be alone with his thoughts for a moment. The white-haired Sparda had a couple important thoughts.

He finally had a job for the first time in weeks. That meant money. It also meant it would keep him busy, get him away from the house, and away from Virgil, even if for a day.

He made his way to the bathroom, in desperate need of a shower. He hadn't taken one in days, do to the frequent breakdowns. Dante knew a shower might wake him up a little. He threw off his sweatpants, the only thing he had been wearing, once near the shower. He cranked up the hot water and made his way into the small shower stall. Sighing, he went about washing himself, staying under the water longer than needed. Once out, he felt a little more mentally refreshed.

The son of the Dark Knight Sparda™, had dressed into his normal attire with a little more concentration that usual. He strode into the garage, but stopped and slapped his forehead. He knew he had forgotten something. With a growl of anger at himself, he jogged back into the Devil May Cry building, rushing to his room to retrieve the 'girls'. He picked up Ivory and Ebony, smiling some.

"Sorry girls. I must be more fried than I thought." He holstered the twins. That was when he remembered another weapon, Alastor, the demonic molester… He hesitantly looked back at where the electrical blade stood now (half-way across the room away from his bed, its previous position). He sighed and decided that it would be foolish to try to go slay demons without a sword. And since Trish had taken off with Sparda (also his Force Edge) and he had smashed Rebellion some years back, Alastor was the only choice left. He tentatively picked up the blade, which thrummed with energy now happy to be back in its master's hands, and slung it onto his back. He turned his head to look over his back.

"Don't start," he said harshly, noticing the sword was getting a little too happy. It immediately calmed down. Dante made his way back to his garage where a now fixed, red bike sat propped up (Trish had given it to him in exchange for the sword). He grabbed the motorcycle helmet and pulled it onto his head, taking his final position on the bike. With a quick turn of the keys and of the handle, Dante sped off into the now drizzling world.

-vvvvv- 

Dante Sparda, the Dark Knight, stared at the old, decrepit building. The stone white columns looked as if they would crumble completely at one mere touch. The immense yard looked like it hadn't been taken care of in ages; the grass already turned yellow and dry, the trees raking the sky with their bare and sharp limbs. He made his way up the cobble stone walkway, stepping onto the concrete porch. He looked around the yard once more, to make sure nothing would surprise him in his mentally weakened state. He opened the gnawed through door with several slash marks on it, making the tarnished knob creak some. The badly marred wooden door groaned on its rustic hinges, a musty smell wafting out to greet him.

"Whew. That's strong," he commented. He made his way into the house, the once-expensive looking mahogany floorboards creaking in protest under his feet. He heard the screech of some unseen and far off demon. Immediately he crouched into a defensive stance, hand on the hilt of Alastor. The sword sparked with nervous energy. When Dante couldn't hear anything else, he breathed in relief and stood erect once more. He walked forward with more confidence, the door, by some defiance of nature, closing behind him with a loud bang. The demon slayer twitched in habit, but didn't turn. He had seen that trick one too many times for it to let him affect him anymore. Slowly he made his way into the room adjacent to the main room, the study. It was then he noticed that the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a cold shiver racing down his spine. This confused him some.

In his many years of slaying demons, only a few times had he ever encountered this feeling. In those times, only one demon could elicit such fear from him…

He stopped thinking at that moment. If he continued, he might remember something he had come here to forget. He stood in the study, looking at the masses of books upon gigantic bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling. Dante had to crane his neck all the way to see the tops of them. He noticed that many of the old, falling-apart books were scattered on the floor and torn apart. It looked like something had tried to make a meal out of them.

"Whatever was here was hungry…" He scooted one with his boot, turning it over. He then moved on, to look at an old oak desk in front of a stained glass window. Some of it had been eaten away by termites, but the left was scarred with angry slash marks. He tried to sum up the damage from the two rooms had recently visit. The slash marks, the books that were half eaten, the earlier screech… He suddenly looked wide-eyed.

"Blades!" He heard the screech a mile away and turned in time to dodge a stealthy attack that came from under the floorboards. The lone Blade that had popped up landed with a crash against the oak desk. The desk toppled over and over until it smacked against the wall under the window. Dante immediately pulled out Alastor, readying for the attack. The demonic lizard growled a high pitched sound, scraping at the ground with its projectile claws, clambering to get back on it's feet. The demon slayer wasted no time, slashing directly at it, piercing its protective mask. It was flung backwards into the desk, but not dead. This time, the Blade was able to make it back onto its feet. It charged at Dante, who retaliated with quick slash downward. The demonic entity was able to sidestep it, which left Dante confused. He must've been more fried than he thought. Just as the Blade thought it had found an opening, Alastor shock an electric bolt straight at the lizard. The Blade convulsed with the electricity, sizzled and fell to the ground. Dante let out the breath he had been holding. He turned to get out of the room, swinging Alastor back on his back.

He was knocked flat the second he got to the doorway. Something that smelled of fried frog legs was attached to his leg, dangerous claws digging into his leg. His hissed in pain, trying to kick the half-dead thing off of him. Then, mustering up enough concentration to grabs the twins, he fired two .45's point-blank into the Blade's face. The demon's face exploded in a spray of blood, brain and flesh. It slumped, finally dead, against his leg. He kicked the heavy body off of him, then stood, holstering his guns and wiping the sweat of fear that had gathered on his forehead. He turned and sighed, getting ready to get out of the nearly destroyed room. The demon slayer was once again caught off guard as he faced three more hissing Blades. He tried to grab his guns, but his hand slipped and that cost him dearly. A sudden flying Blade knocked Dante back. He staggered backwards, teetering over the edge of the surprising deep hole the now dead Blade had made earlier. One more screeched, flew forward and tackled. Dante didn't remember much except blackness and the loud hissing in his ear.

---

_Get up._

_Get up you weakling._

Dante stirred. It had only been a couple minutes since his fall.

_What's the use of suffering so much over me if you're this easily defeated? Is my death worth nothing to you! Did I let myself be murdered by a weakling? GET UP!_

The demon slayer groaned. _He _was coming back now. Always mocking him.

_Master…_

It was then that the younger Sparda's eyes flashed open. It was strange. He knew the last voice was of Alastor's. Why did he awake to the demon's cooing, instead of Virgil's harsh reminder. He groaned and pushed himself up. A headache now threatening to split open his head. He looked around and was greeted with darkness…and hissing.

"Shit," Dante cursed. Ten Blades stepped out into the opening, strangely not making an attack as soon as possible. It was like they were waiting for something. It was then that the ringleader stepped into the clearing. The demon was easily eight feet tall, with scaly skin and armor covering most parts of its body. It was the daddy of all Blades. Dante didn't really care about it, it was the thing it was holding.

"Alastor!" The blade held in its grasp Dante's favorite sidekick. What scared the demon slayer the most was that he could see the beginnings of cracks in his beloved sword. Why hadn't the thing just killed him? Why did it have to take Alastor. The sword buzzed with energy, but it didn't seem to be affecting its captor. The Blade hissed, holding the sword out farther away from it, crushing it's gauntlet hands on the sword. Dante cringed each time he heard a 'tink' of metal crumbling. "Stop!" Dante pulled out his guns, aiming forward. The Blade master screeched, dropping the sword back to his side and charging head on, the others following behind him. Dante fired five shots, ten bullets in all, sending them flying directly at the tall Blade. It horrified what happened next.

The Blade immediately pulled back, throwing Alastor in front of its body as a shield. The .45's collided with the blade. At first, it wasn't so bad. The first four bounced off, but next two lodged themselves into the weakened spot. The final four completed the job by making the blade exploded into tiny demonic fragments of metal. The sword did not lay down and die though. The electrical energy stored inside the sword exploded outward, frying all the demons in sight. One particularly nasty and lively energy spike caught Dante, sending him to the ground yet again. He faded in and out, black edging around his eyes. He heard the electricity crackle, die down, fade away and finally:

"Master!"

Hey, that didn't sound like a thought…

**SlytherinsWench**: omg, wow. That's weird. I am new to this section of fiction, if that's what you're asking. I also read your story, which was well written. A pleasure to read.

**Laryna6**: Uh, I'm not sure if I'll do Alastor in this story exactly like Alastor in Viewtiful Joe. I might take some trademark quirks of the lovable demon, but other than that, its sketchy at this point.

A word from the author: OMGWTFLONGTIMENOREAD, NOOB! 

A sensible word from the author: Sorry for the delayed update. Been busy with school. x.X I promise I'll try updating more often now.


	3. Every Time I think of You

**Carnal Spark**

I wanted to learn about the dark side of you  
You bring me down like a bottle of pills  
I hate the way that you make me feel  
I keep coming back I never get killed

_--Adema "Unstable"_

+Third Spark: Every Time I Think of You…+

It would've been a lie if Dante didn't feel like complete shit when his eyes painfully cracked open. The reality of it was the great dark knight felt like dieing right then and there. He felt so incredibly numb from all the electricity that ran through his body, not to mention he had a gigantic headache. He groaned, blue eyes searching the pitch-black room he was in. After a moment or so, he found that it was indeed his room, although he had no idea how he had gotten there. All he remembered was…

_Oh. That's right. Alastor was busted… Man, I really liked that sword…_

While he sat still, he thought about the idea of not having one of his favorite sidekicks around anymore and what he would do without a sword. Sure, he could take down most demons with just his guns alone, but…without a sword…

What's a Legendary Dark Knight™ without a demonic sword?

He sighed, trying to settle back down. Sleep sounded good at the moment. It had been the first time in weeks his insomnia had been cured. Plus, there was something really warm next to him and it was really comfortable to sleep against. Dante snuggled into the warm mass next to him, only to notice that it moved, had a pulse and was breathing against his neck. And was that…a bare leg against his?

Dante scrambled away—well, actually, he just rolled off the bed ungracefully—and looked up at the bed. It was then that he noticed why he felt like crap. He grasped his leg, seeing that it was bandaged and bloody. Wasn't that the spot that the Blade had dugs its nails into?

The white-haired Sparda watched as a figure rose from the bed, sitting up and yawning. He felt around the side of the bed for Dante, rubbing his eyes. The demon slayer watched as the figure noticed the absence of the half-demon's body next to him and looked back. Dante caught his eyes, not to mention a whole eyeful of something else.

Ruby red eyes bore into his contrasting blue ones. It could've been called one those romantic 'eyes-meeting-across-a-crowded-room' things, if this were a romantic situation, the _thing _(he clearly knew it was a man by certain anatomical items, but he guessed it wasn't human) on Dante's bed didn't look familiar, the bedroom had been crowded, and the great demon slayer wasn't about to cause bodily harm to the thing that decided to sleep naked next to him for God knows how long.

"Master, what're you doing down there?" Dante cringed at the word 'master' and suddenly a lot of puzzle pieces fell into place. "You're wounded and have a high fever. You need to be in bed."

"Not with you sitting there!" Dante yelled.

"I was only keeping you warm…" The demon kept a straight face, which meant he was serious.

"That's what blankets are for, dumbass! Who are you anyway?" Dante stood, towering over the demon sitting on the bed. He could clearly see the small horns sticking from his black, white-streaked, spiked-up hair.

"Don't you recognize me, master?" Dante did not answer, on the grounds that he did not want to. If what he was thinking was true, he was in for a whole lot of confusion and headache.

"…A-Alastor?"

"Yes. You were knocked out by the electrical blast. Of course, being knocked directly out of my sword had cause me to black out for awhile as well…" He smiled some, indicating that he felt stupid because of that. "When I awoke though, you were still unconscious and the wound on your leg was starting to get infected. I had to carry you home and bandage your leg."

"But, you should be dead…or something!"

"Energy can't be destroyed, master," he said with a laugh. "With the power I had left, I simply concocted a physical form for myself. You agree with this body, yes?" Dante didn't answer, instead stuttering and turning red. That was definitely not something you asked Dante Sparda, lover of boobs, if you were a guy… And a very anatomically correct guy, Dante thought by looking at him.

"Could you answer me a question?" Dante asked, trying to keep his yelling to a minimum. The demon had been right. He was sick with a fever. It was starting to get to him.

"Yes, master?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Sorry mas—I mean, please forgive me."

"Why are you naked?"

"Demon's aren't just born with clothes you know…" Alastor gave him a strange look that clearly said that was an idiotic question. Dante knew this.

"B-but, did you have to lay next to me, _naked_?"

"Master, I don't see what is so wrong with my lack of clothing." Dante almost had a nice rebuttal for that, but it stopped short of his tongue. He _was_ a demon who, until just now, had been living in a sword for the last couple of centuries. Dante was sure Alastor could not form clothes on himself even if he tried. "I needed to keep you warm, master," he continued, adding in the title by mistake. "You were shivering. I didn't know what was wrong with you. I haven't dealt with human sicknesses…"

"Just…whatever… I'm gonna leave now. Maybe I'll wake up from this sometime soon…" Dante walked past his bed, heading for the door. He could feel the headache throbbing just behind his brain. Maybe if he could find some Advil or something…

It was when he reached the doorknob that his knees gave out. He slammed his forehead into the wooden door before falling over backward, only to be caught by a very worried once-sword, electrical demon.

"Stop touching me…" The young Sparda said quietly. He was very worn out, the wound on his leg aching with pain a little.

"Master, you need to stay off your feet. You'll open your wound more…" Alastor was quiet, cooing to his master like a mother would a child. "You're burning up. Please stay in bed." The red-eyed demon helped Dante up, but the ever-proud slayer just shoved him away before falling into bed on his own. The electrical demon made his way over to his ill master, sitting next to him, looking down on him.

"Go away…" Dante mumbled against his pillow.

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?" came the muffled voice.

"I'm bound to you…until you die."

"Then kill me and leave. I'd rather not live anymore." Alastor fidgeted with Dante's white bangs strewn across his pillow. "And stop touching me." The demon withdrew when his master ordered him.

"You shouldn't say things like that…"

"I'll say whatever…I damn well…feel like…" Dante finally drifted off, his breathing evening out to signify he was sleeping.

"…Even if I could, I would stay for you, master. You need me whether you like it or not…" Alastor brushed the other's white bangs from the side of his face to behind his ear. "Every time I think of you, I feel a pull inside… I want to help you." He was quiet as he watched his precious owner sleep, trying to ward off the coming sickness he would feel for the next couple of days.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A word from the crazy side: AWWWLOOKITTHELOVE:3 Squee.

A word from the sensible side: Yay, new chapter. I'll try updating around the weekends from now on, since most of you have jobs, school or a crazy combination of the two. Thanks for all the reviews.


	4. Enemy

**Carnal Spark**

_There's not one thing_

_That you can say to make it right_

_Unless you say you're leaving_

_And if you're not, then please tell me why_

_Please tell me why you can't save face_

_(Say it to my face)_

_--Sevendust "Face to Face"_

+Fourth Spark: Enemy+

Sneeze.

Sniffle.

Raw-throated coughing.

One could only assume that the demon slayer, Dante Sparda, was no better off than he was only a couple hours ago. Now he was kept awake by hacking up his lungs and annoying sneezes. Not only that, he couldn't seem to get his body warm, even though his insides felt like melting. He couldn't think of why he was so sick. Surely the demonic blood coarsing through his veins should've helped prevent this. Something was wrong... Could the last month of self-destructive habits finally caught up to him in the form of an infection? It didn't make much sense, but it was all he had to go on.

Dante looked towards his bedroom door, which swung open, revealing a now-clothed Alastor with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. The young Sparda had forced Alastor to dress if he were to be walking around the shop, fetching Dante whatever he needed at the time. The dark-haired demon set the things which Dante had sent him out for down, sitting next to the bed on the ground, waiting for another command. The slayer noted his loyal dog-like behavior and attributed it to the fact that the demon had spent the last milennia as a tool of destruction. Dante fetched the water and aspirin off the table, gulping down three tablets and the glass. Alastor watched quietly.

"...Are you feeling better, master?" He asked timidly. Everytime he spoke, Dante had found the energy to yell at him. He didn't know what he had done to upset his owner.

"Does it look like I'm doing any better?" Dante replied, giving him a hard glare. Alastor guessed this was a little foolish. The white-haired half-demon's face was still flushed, not to mention he looked exhausted.

Sneeze.

Dante gave a harsh sigh. When he found it slient again, he looked to the demon sitting on the hard wooden floor.

"You know, you're supposed to say 'Bless you'." Alastor lifted a raven eyebrow.

"Master, you know I can't speak words such as those... Something bad will happen."

"That's the whole point." Dante plopped back down onto his pillow staring at the ceiling.

"That was rude." Alastor added, dropping his owner's title.

"Oooh, little doggy's gettin' an attitude. And here I thought you had no spine." The demon on the floor next to him was quiet; with fury or obedience, he didn't know. It was quiet again, which made Dante uncomfortable. It made his mind travel back to his ill state, which wasn't a pleasant thought. He had to say something... "Hey." Alastor grunted in response. "You know, I've wanted to ask you this for a long time. How exactly did you get stuck in that door?" Alastor eyed his master strangely. He guessed it was an obvious question...

"I was put there."

"Oh really? I thought you walked up to the door, climbed in and sat there for your health for who knows how long... Thanks for clearing that up for me." The demon rolled his eyes, already familiar with his master's frequent use of sarcasm. He was no stranger to it. "Who the hell put you there, is was I'm asking. And why?"

"It was punishment."

"For what?" Dante sighed, not understanding why the once-sword was so hesistant in telling him the truth.

"It's a rather long story."

"I'm going anywhere, dumbass. Especially with you acting like a mother hen." Alastor frowned.

"If you _must_ know, it was because I defied Mundus two thousand years ago." This caught the demon slayer's attention. Two thousand years ago, his father had done the same thing. Of course, the legend went that Sparda was the _only_ one to rise up against the evil lord and ruler of hell. It never mentioned an electrical demon sidekick.

"How? I thought Sparda was the only one to do that? The legend even says that."

"But, as you said, it is only legend. Some of the facts of what really happened didn't make it to storytime." Dante took note of the sarcasm.

"Okay, wait, so you're saying you and my dad fought against Mundus?"

"Your father, me and _Ifrit_ did." This made Dante look Alastor in the eyes, to see if he was pulling his leg. "Ifrit, who is now a pair of flaming gauntlets, fought with me and your father. Of course, this brings up the reason why Sparda was the only one to make it into _legend_."

"That being...?"

"Mundus captured us before we were to face him down. He trapped us in weapon form and stuck us on the God-forsaken land. Sparda was the only one to defeat him, therefore he is the only one mentioned."

"So, Mundus captured you, made you a sword, stuck you on Mallet Island and for what reason might I ask?"

"Mallet Island was Mundus' 'stomping grounds' as you like to say. So, if we were stuck there, without any mobility, he knew we would not escape."

"So you guys sat around, stuck on Mallet Island, for two _thousand _years? What did you do with yourselves?" Alastor sighed, thinking about it.

"We basically killed anybody who got close to us. For sport." Dante gave him a strange glance. "We had nothing else to do to amuse ourselves. You wouldn't believe how much funcan be had in killing those damn puppets."

"Did anyone else try to weild you before I came along?"

"No. I killed them all."

"So, I was just lucky?" Alastor shook his head.

"No. I was waiting for you. Or that brother of yours."

"Why?"

"Sparda told me the night before we were captured that even if he did defeat Mundus, all he could do was seal him away. He could not kill him alone. He said that in two thousand years, Mundus might break free of his bonds. The original plan was to wait it out, so that we might fight him a final time, hopefully killing him. Of course, that didn't happen."

"Didn't you have a back-up plan?"

"Word circulated among the demons who lived on Mallet Island. Mundus had found out that Sparda had taken a human wife and had two sons, twins. I thought of this for the better. Sparda's sons would surely be able to help their father finally kill Mundus once and for all. Sparda would come and save Ifrit and I. But...things don't always happen as planned.

"Mundus sent out a force of Blades, Scythes and a faithful demon follower of his: Nightmare. Their job was to take out Sparda's family while he was away. Two other followers of Mundus', the large magma spider, Phantom and the keen hawk, Griffon, were sent to destroy Sparda..." Dante sat now, attentive to every word. He hardly noticed the fever anymore. "It pained me to know there was nothing I could do for him or his family... The next night, the three demon generals returned with their report. The Blades and Scythes bragged to all the others, describing the way the poor little human family was so surprised. They said that they had missed the smallest one, but were surprised to only find one child instead of two..."

"...That's because Vergil was with Sparda..." Dante said as he reminisced. Alastor sat as it was his turn to listen. "Vergil and I were supposed to go with dad. He was gonna teach how to weild a sword. I came down with a cold...and mom told me to stay behind. I had to watch...as my mother was swallowed whole by that damn blob, waiting around for my _legendary_ father to arrive and save her." Dante shook his head, trying to keep the horrible images from his mind. "I sat around for three days waiting for Vergil and Sparda to come back... And they never did."

"Your brother escaped, like you. You swore vegenance while your brother roamed the world, looking for a reason to live." Dante glared at Alastor.

"You make it sound like he just rolled over and died..." The demon disregarded the statement, continuing on.

"The point is, you swore vegenace and found me. I would've have killed you if it were not that we shared the same reason to be after Mundus. The reason I continued to follow you afterwards was the fact that you were Sparda's son."

"So, if I had been Vergil, you would belong to him?"

"No." The demon answered simply. "If you had been your brother, I would've stayed silent."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew about your brother working for Mundus long before you met him as Nelo Angelo. He did not know of me, therefore I tried not to attract his attention." Dante frowned.

"You could've saved him, though. You could've reminded him of the real reason he was there!"

"How do you purpose I would've done that? Your brother's mind was corrupted with power by his own hand. He did it to himself. I could do nothing for him." The white-haired Sparda glared at him. The electrical demon had definitley stuck a nerve with the last statement.

"You don't know Vergil! Vergil wanted to avenge mom as much as I did! He was forced to work for that bastard Mundus!"

"You do not understand. The minute I was plunged into that man's flesh, I knew every motive that he had. He wanted nothing more than power and he knew Mundus could give it to him. If it meant wagering something as fragile as his soul, he was willing to sell it."

"Shut up!"

"He saw you as nothing but an obstacle. He saw your mother as the person who had planted human weakness in his veins. He did not care. He only wanted to be as powerful as his father, and obtain the power that you had, which he believed was his birthright. Face it. Vergil betrayed you." It was deathly quiet for two seconds. The minute all of Alastor's word sunk in, Dante leapt at the once-sword, tackling him to the ground. His still gloved fingers found the demon's neck, squeezing with all their might. He would not stand for the way Alastor had made a mockery of Vergil in front of him.

"You bastard! You don't know Vergil! YOU DON'T KNOW!" Alastor managed to punch his owner off of him, gasping for air, doubled over in pain. The demon slayer got to his feet after he recovered, kicking Alastor in the stomach. The demon sputtered, coughing back up the precious air he had just sucked in. "You fuckin' bastard! How dare you! Fuckin' lieing piece of shit demon!" Dante stomped on Alastor's chest, causing the demon to once again lose his breath. He looked around his room for something, Alastor writhing on the ground, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Dante stepped briskly across the room, grabbing one of the twins off a table near his bed. He whipped it around to the demon in pain on the floor. Dante noticed that his vision was starting to blur, the gun in front of him swaying back and forth. He knew he had overdone it, the fever consuming him again. He dropped Ebony on the ground, falling against the wall behind him. The exhausted demon slayer watched as Alastor stopped moving, his eyes closing, but still gasping for air. Dante slipped to the ground, eyes drifting close. Alastor was the enemy now. He had treaded dangerous grounds and had been punished for it.

Hopefully, the ex-sidekick would be gone by time he woke up...

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

A word from the crazy side: WTFHAPPENEDTOTHELUV!

A word from the sensible side: Oh my god, Dante and Alastor fighting! You knew it would happen sooner or later. Alastor hates Vergil for making Dante depressed and Dante seems to love his brother a little much. Yeah, I bet you all thought Alastor and Dante would just immediatley get together from last chapter. HELLZ NO. More angst and arguing abound:3

Oh, by the way, I totally pulled all that back story out my ass. I have no idea if that really happened. I just took all the things I learned of Vergil's, Dante's and Sparda's pasts from the Manga, and tried to fit some things together. And since this is taking place after the first game, I thought I'd include the four main bosses as well. It would explain why Phantom and Griffon kept calling Dante 'Sparda'. o.O


	5. Emotional Asphixiation

**Carnal Spark**

_Sooner or later_

_You're gonna hate it_

_Go ahead and throw your life away_

_Driving me under_

_Leaving me out there_

_Go ahead and throw your life away_

_--Breaking Benjamin "Sooner or Later"_

+Fifth Spark: Emotional Asphixiation+

**_Riii---ing._**

_**Riii--ing.**_

Ruby red eyes of demonic descent fluttered open. The electrical spirit testingly sucked in a few breaths, making sure that his physical body had not died after the brutal attack. He found he could breathe normally again, although his windpipe still hurt like hell. Not to mention his whole torso.

_Damn. He can kick hard._ Alastor moved the thought back in his brain, trying not to think about the beating he had just recieved.

**_Riii--ing._**

_**Riii--ing.**_

Alastor arose into a sitting position, holding his bruised stomach, looking for the thing that was making all the noise. He noticed that Dante was still passed out over in the corner. Ebony gleamed dangerously at him. If the fever had not caused his rather violent master to faint, he would probably be floating around in a million particles of energy by now. The demon was about to move over to help his owner, but that annoying ring once again resounded throughout the shop.

**_Riii--ing._**

_**Riii--ing.**_

With some trouble, he was able to stand. He staggered out the bedroom door and out into the main area. His muscles ached as he walked and he started to rethink ever inventing this mortal body. He saw the irritating, old-fashioned phone sitting on its cradle on the oak desk beyond the hallway. He stumbled over to it, finally making his way into the chair that was at the desk, and then picked up the receiver before another sound could be made.

"Hello?" the demon asked, timid about his speaking since this was the first time he had ever used this contraption. The other person on the line waited for a moment, before asking something in a non-convinced voice.

"Is this Devil May Cry?"

"Uh, yes. B-but, we're closed."

"Closed? How does a shop like that _close_?" The skeptic asked. Alastor had overheard Dante's conversations with his potential clients, but he wasn't Dante and the real demon slayer couldn't exactly get up and open his eyes long enough to take a job. Plus, he didn't know the password Dante often spoke of.

"I'm sorry but Dante isn't...uh...available to take any jobs."

"I need someone, _anyone_! I've got a serious problem!" Alastor pitied the human, but he wasn't about to steal his master's job.

"Sucks to be you," he replied as he hung up the phone. It was very unlike himself to say something like that, but he summed it up to be his master's doing. Being around Dante that long had made him pick up some of his nastier traits. The electrical demon sat back in the chair, trying to get back the motivation to stand again. He thought back to the spat that he and his master had just had. He didn't mean for those words to come out of his mouth; he knew how sensitive Dante was when Vergil was mentioned. The demon seethed with anger just at the thought of the traitor's name. He had been the one to turn Dante into the emtionally asphixiated man he had come to be. It seemed the demon slayer's life was seemingly being controlled by the traitor beyond the grave. Why wouldn't Vergil leave his brother even after his death? It was suffocating just to think about it. Alastor stood from the wooden chair and walked towards the bedroom, his stomach and chest not really feeling any better. He opened the door slowly, ready to retreat if Dante had woken from his fever-induced slumber with Ebony so close to him. The raven-haired demon peeked inside, releasing the breath he had been holding when he noticed that his master was still unconscious over in the corner. Alastor hesistantly made his way towards the fallen half-demon. He bent down, picked up his ill owner and slung his arm over his own shoulder. He drug the rather heavy demon slayer to his old bed not too far away, setting him down carefully. Dante stirred some, moving to lay on his side. Alastor sighed, cursing the stubborn bastard.

_What keeps him so attached to that damned traitor?_ The electrical demon could not understand why Dante would continue to pine over someone who had done nothing but stab him in his back so many times. Not to mention the attempted murders...

"You stupid bastard..," the demon spoke, looking at the flushed face of the man who had just tried to kill him. He watched as the white brows of his master knitted together in pain. Alastor moved the young Sparda's silver-white bangs out of his face, feeling his forehead in the process. He didn't know how to make his owner feel any better. He surmised that this was mostly his fault. That blast of electricity earlier on must have messed with his immune system...fried his demonic regenative powers. He didn't know how long it would take for his powers to come back either.

Alastor soon found himself sitting next to his master, watching him forlornly. He hoped he would get better soon... Then he would be able to help with the other illness...Vergil's curse. He would be damned if he would let Dante throw his life away for something so petty as that absurd excuse for a demon. Alastor unconsciously drew the back of his hand across the slayer's cheek. This action was only to be abruptly stopped when a gloved hand caught his pale one. He looked into exhausted, dull blue eyes with surprise. Dante had some trouble breathing, but this was probably due to recent developements in sinage problems.

"Stop. Touching me," he said carefully, as if speaking to someone on the opposite end of the I.Q. bar. He sounded tired, but Alastor could pick up the underlying anger. "It's bad enough that you're a demon now... It's even worse that you dogged on my brother like that..," Dante spoke, drowsily.

"Is that why you tried to kill me?" Dante gave a half-shrug. He wasn't really feeling in top form.

"...Hell if I know. You piss me off." Alastor rolled his eyes. He desperatley wanted to express his 'feelings' about Dante's moping and Vergil's back-stabbing, but he didn't want his master to get more worked up than he already was. He didn't need Dante to get even sicker... "Hey," he said dryly. "What was that ringing earlier?"

"Your phone," Alastor answered simply. Dante's eyes widened a little, then he sighed.

"You mean a client called? Did you at least pick it up?"

"I did, but then I told him you weren't available for any jobs."

"You said _what?_" Dante asked, a little ticked off. "I'm fine for a fuckin' job! Dumbass!"

"I don't call fainting, _fine_, you stubborn bastard," Alastor spoke with a hard glare. Dante's face expressed complete surprise. Where had the sudden attitude come from? Wasn't he supposed to be an obedient little dog? "You're not fine. If you went on one of those suicidal jobs of yours, you'd die! You would probably faint during a crucial moment, after having your ass kicked, and then be eaten alive by some two-bit demon! You're such a fucking moron sometimes!" Alastor growled, suddenly leaping up the bed. Dante chuckeled to himself, as Alastor kind of sounded like a worried wife. He had definitley been taken by surprise by his no longer timid speech and proper grammar. Hell, he had even said 'fuck'.

"The next time someone calls, you tell _me_. Don't hang up on anymore of my clients. I need the jobs." Alastor turned to him, brows furrowed.

"I know you, Dante. I know you don't care about money. You do these jobs for the thrill of it. I swear, you're either suicidal or trying to prove yourself. Although, I have no idea who you would have to prove yourself to. I hope it isn't that dead bastard..." Alastor said in a fit of anger. Quite frankly, he was quite tired of Dante's attitude to the whole situation. He wasn't allowing his _human_ body to rest. If he hadn't been half-demon, he would probably be on the edge of death right now from the infection.

Dante noted who the electrical demon had been talking about, and didn't like it. He grew angry at the demon again, on the verge of yelling at him again almost.

"Get out," he said, restraining himself. Alastor's brow turned upward at the statement, almost regretting what he had said.

"Look, I'm so--."

"Get out. Now."

"Dante, I'm not going. You need someone to look over you."

"Oh yeah, you've been doing great. Get out." Dante's hand motioned to the empty glass on the nightstand next to him. Alastor frowned, barring his fanged insicors, trying to reinsert his position in the whole situation.

"I'm not going! You need to learn to get over that damn brother of yours and worry about yourself for once!" The electrical's demon fists clenched. The demon slayer laying sick in bed grabbed the glass and hurled it across the room.

"Get the fuck out!" The broken shards of the cup fell to the ground with a clatter, a couple had been imbedded in Alastor's cheek from where it had hit him. Alastor looked back to his master, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. It was quiet for a couple moments as the raven-haired demon plucked out the few shards stuck in his cheek. Dante noticed that there was no blood, instead the cuts in his face seemed to glow with energy as they sealed themselves. The electrical spirit sighed before speaking.

"Look, you big baby, your fucking _traitorous dog_ of a brother is dead. You killed him. **Get over it**. You didn't even know it was him until _after_ he was dead. Start worrying about yourself and the people around you. I mean, look at yourself! You're in bed incredibly ill! Now, some of this is my fault, but the reason you can't seem to get better is because all that fucking moping you did earlier on is catching up to you!" Dante growled, despite his illness.

"Just SHUT UP. You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I've watched you all these years, Dante. This isn't like you! What happened to you? When did you suddenly just lose it and say 'Today I think I'll slit my wrists open because I happened to kill my own brother, who I thought _loved_ me oh-so-much, without knowing it'? I don't care if you hate me, but I want to help you! I don't want to see you waste your life away pinning over Vergil! It's not right! It's not who you are!"

"So you're saying I shouldn't give a flying rat's ass about that fact that I killed my only living family?"

"No, you should care. But this is too far! You need to stop! One day its going to kill you!" Dante heard some of the hurt creep out of his voice. It reminded him so much of the speech Trish had given him before she left... The once-energetic demon slayer was quiet. There was no more yelling to be had... Some of what Alastor said held its own truths... Dante didn't think he was ready to throw Vergil to the wind though. Alastor suddenly became worried about his master's sudden solemness. "...Master?" He asked, adding in the formality.

"...Just get out." The demon was ready to protest again, but he bit back his words, and headed out the bedroom door. The demon slayer had just...given up. Alastor bit his lip.

_What have I done?_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A word from the crazy side: ...WTF?

A word from the sensible side: Whoa. Emotions running wild... o.O The future is suddenly looking a little brighter, though. Some more angsting, less arguing from now on. I promise my loyal fans that Dante will _indeed_ go back to his former self. Word to the wise though, happiness is found through suffering...

By the Way (a.k.a Author's notes): 'Asphixiation' means to die by suffocation. **Be reminded, this fic updates on weekends.**

And now... **Koneko's Notes to teh Fans!**

**_Bustahead_**: I don't know if your predictions coming true are good or bad. :X I hope I haven't made the story boring for you. But yes, there will be a lemon. Like, two and a half of them. O.o

**_KarasuKuro_**: OMG, yay. I love you. You made my day. o.O If you like surprises, then you'll be quite happy with the next, like, four or five chapters... Also, I'm glad my crazy side amuses you. If it didn't, it would be out of a job.


	6. Brother

**Carnal Spark**

_Take me under_

_I'm giving into you_

_I'm dying tonight_

_I'm giving into you_

_Watch me crumble_

_I'm giving into you_

_I'm crying tonight_

_I'm giving into you_

_--Adema "Giving in"_

+Sixth Spark: Brother+

The quiet that enveloped Devil May Cry that coming morning could even have made the Grim Reaper turn away in fear. To the casual obeserver, it seemed nothing more than calm. Only the two demonic residents had any tip off to what emotions were brewing so silently within its walls.

Dante had once again been up all night. Alastor had not slept either. Not because he was feeling guilty, or worried (No, not Alastor. Worried? It _barely_ crossed his mind), but simply because of the fact that full-fledged demons did not require rest. Alastor just enjoyed the luxury of being able to close his eyes once in a while. Hell, he had slept a couple hundred years while stuck on Mallet Island. Of course, he did wake once to kill an annoying Blade who kept poking him.

Dante Sparda's case was a little different, although the same in some points. Insomniacs didn't require sleep either. They, too, enjoyed the luxury of closing their eyes, albeit it didn't come easily. The reason he had been up, though, was not credited towards the fact that he had insomnia. No. It had been because he had been mulling over his once-sidekick's argument last night. If the words had been a meal in his mouth, they would probably be putty by now. As the sun rose over the wet horizon (from the rain last night that had gone unnoticed. This was due to the fact that either occupant had been passed out or screaming at each other), the young Sparda realized that he now had something even more important to think about: Did he really believe in the electrical spirit's words? Could he throw Vergil away so easily? No, of course he couldn't. He was Dante Sparda, and Dante had always been a stubborn person.

The white-haired half-demon sat with his knees pulled close to his body, his grey blanket wrapped around him. The ever-happy-sun mocked him. Usually angsting didn't happen in the early hours of the morning. The sun just _makes_ most people feel a little happier, cause it meant you were still alive to see the sunrise (although most people hate this fact).

A sigh.

The Dark Knight knew he would not be moving from his bed anytime soon...

-vvvv-

Meanwhile, ten feet away from the emo-ness of the white-haired Sparda who happened to be in the only warm room in the building, Alastor sat on the couch in the main area with a blanket wrapped tightly around him. While Dante hadn't noticed the thunderstorm at all last night in the wee hours of the morning, Alastor had gotten rather well aquianted with it. Well, actually, he had only met the torrential rain's offsrping, Mr. Drippy and Mr. Drop. Why these rain drops that had invaded the demon slayer's poorly kept roof were all males was beyond Alastor's knowlegde. The point is, he didn't have the pleasure of coming head-to-head with Mr. Fucking-loud-ass-thunder and Mrs. Brighter-than-shit-lightning-bolt.

Again, the genders of these elemental happenings is a mystery.

The electrical demon (who, although could produce his lightning, didn't like thunderstorms all) looked at the wet spot on the black, leather sofa that he had been sitting in. 'Had' being the key word. Mr. Drippy and Mr. Drop had fell into his hair ten times before Alastor had worked up the will power to move.

And now, because of the rains and the climate of this region, it was cold outside. So, since poor-insulated walls, wood, and stone don't keep heat in very well, it was really _fucking_ cold inside the office area of the Devil May Cry. Luckily, Dante kept an extra blanket near the couch in case he ever felt the need to pass out on it.

The demonic spirit sighed, thinking back to the recent screaming match he and his master had shared. He frowned, Dante's final words making all kinds of sirens go off in his head. What if Alastor had only succeded in depressing him further? Dante would never get better at this rate. He needed to do something...something that would rid his poor master of all his depressing thoughts. Not now though. He would leave him alone until Dante felt like walking around again.

It was then a lightbulb turned on above the demon's head.

But, it flickered.

Then it died.

The hellspawn frowned. This was enough to make the bulb come to life again. Afterall, Alastor's specialty was electricity.

-vvvv-

Dante was in the early stages of moping, still cursing Alastor for saying those _awful_ things about his brother. It had reminded him of what Trish had almost cried about before she left. Now, Dante wasn't in love or anything with Trish (contrary to popular belief). In fact, the only reason she was--had been--around was that 1) she looked like his mother, and 2) she was a great partner to have around when in battle. In fact, he remembered the day all too well...

(oOoOoOoO**Flashback**oOoOoOoO)

It was raining that day.

No, not a pounding rain that those black and white films' main heroine has to stroll through, with all of her makeup still in perfect condition.

It was just a light drizzle. In fact, you had to look on the ground outside to see the raindrops hit the puddles to know it was raining. Trish, in all her blond demonic glory, was sitting at the desk in the office area. Her feet were propped up on it comfortably. She was reading a magazine, trying to pass time while she waited for a client to call. For some reason, Devil May Cry didn't get much business when it rained. It was as if demons didn't like water, or something. Which was contradicting in itself, since there were many demons who were somewhat aquatic.

Trish was also waiting for Dante to come back from the bathroom. He had been gone for a little more than ten minutes...which seemed odd to her. Although a demon, Trish knew that males didn't have to use the bathroom for very long. Although, there were some cases in which they could be gone for an eternity... But that story is for another time.

The female demon thought back to the past couple of weeks. She had lived with Dante for a little over a year now--almost two--and yet he had seemed to change a little day by day... As much as she thought about it, she had no idea why. Dante had started losing the confidence in his stride. He was...quieter now. Which was totally unsual for someone who's favorite passtime was throwing back sarcastic remarks in demons' faces. His smile was not that of the cocky demon slayer she had first met that fateful night when she had wrecked his precious building. He seemed angrier, if that was the word for it. Something about this whole week hadn't been right.

Trish threw aside the magazine on motorcycles she had been reading. Fifteen minutes was way too long for _anyone_ to be in the bathroom. She hurriedly got up and marched to the not-very-far-away bathroom. Trish stood, letting her sensitive ears go to work. She couldn't hear much of anything happening in the bathroom. The loud rock music in the other room was distracting her somewhat, she guessed. She could hear breathing inside (almost silent breathing, though), which was somewhat of a relief. Trish knocked loudly on the wooden door.

"Hey, Sparda, what're you doing in there?" She added in his last name so that maybe he would answer quicker. This didn't happen. No sound was made. The blond knocked again. "Hello?" No answer. Trish jiggled the door knob worriedly. "Dante?" Yet again, no answer. "Dante, let me in!" Why wasn't he answering? Was he not in there anymore? No. He was in there. The door was locked. "Dante!" She figured she had no choice. Trish, after placing her delicate fingers on the door knob again, melted the bronze metal away. It dripped down the side of the door, until Trish could finally get inside. She threw open the door, already holding her breath. Trish was still. Dante had indeed been in there. He was standing in front of the sink, the medicine cabinet mirror was smashed. The few remaining broken shards left in the corners of the mirror only reflected the white hair that now covered his eyes. Slowly, the demon slayer looked over his shoulder at Trish. She was very still and quiet.

"...What're you doing here? You shouldn't be in here." Trish took an experimental step forward. "Don't come near me." The blond demon was struck by the cold words hard. The two slayers had become good friends. Why was he suddenly shutting her out now?

"...Dante, what happened?" She asked timidly. This was an acomplishment, since Trish was anything _but_ timid.

"Get out." Trish stomped forward, Dante watching her with a predatory look. The once-clean, white sink was now stained messily with his blood. She knew it was his blood, because it was dripping steadily out of his wrists. She roughly grabbed the demon slayer's cut wrists, looking them over. Dante immediatley pushed her away. After she recovered, she frowned at him with a worried look.

"Dante, what the hell?" she almost yelled. "What did you do!"

"Just go away."

"Fuck that! I want answers, Sparda!"

"I just want to be alone."

"Why did you cut yourself?"  
"It's the only way...to release this pain." Now, Trish had always believed Dante was a stable-headed person (well, most of the time), but this had totally thrown that idea out the window. What pain could he possibly be talking about?

"What're you talking about?" Dante's shoulder's shook. Abruptly he sunk to the floor, hands over his eyes.

"Trish, I-I killed him. It's all my fault." The once-exubrant half-demon sobbed. "I didn't help him. I killed him. It's my fault he's gone... He's never coming back!" Trish kneeled next to him, not sure what to do. She had never comforted anyone, let anyone a crying half-demon.

"...Him, who?"

"Vergil! I killed Vergil!" Trish's forhead wrinkled in concern. Vergil? His brother? He had killed Vergil a year ago. Why was he suddenly be so upset about it?

"But, Dante...your brother has been dead for awhile... Why does it upset you _now_?"

"I can't bear the pain anymore! I had to...do something... I had to. It was unbearable. I wanted to die!" Trish thought about this. She knew it probably meant that Dante had been upset about it since the get-go, but he had stored up all the pain inside. Which would explain the day-by-day disinegration of his personality. "W-what do I do? I killed him...I killed him..."

The night went on like that.

-vvvv-

It had been a week. Dante had finally stopped crying just yesterday and Trish was at her wit's end. She didn't know what to do about him anymore. She had tried to comfort him about the situation, she really had, but nothing was getting through. He was like a scared child. He kept muttering that it was 'his fault' and that 'Vergil was angry with him'. Trish knew the truth. The blond demon _knew_ Vergil hated his brother. She had even tried to tell Dante that, to make him feel foolish for ever shedding tears over the monster. This only resulted in Dante roaring at her, saying horrible things that didn't need to be repeated.

Trish sat now on the black sofa in the main area (which also the office area). She was at the moment, resting her eyes, her sharp ears suddenly picking up the beginings of a whimper in the room over. He was crying. _Again_. She put her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the sound. Dante's depression seemed to rubbing off on her. It also angered her that she could nothing for her friend. It angered her even more that he was letting himself be controlled by that bastard that he called family. Sure, he should care. It _was_ his only living family. But, CRYING? It was too much and Trish found herself losing respect for the once-happy Dante Sparda.

Trish lept to her feet, finally knowing she couldn't be around him anymore. Well, at least until he got better. She went to Dante's door, seeing if she could persuade him one more time to stop this embarassment he was making himself into. Trish knocked.

"Dante?" The only answer was a sniffle. "Dante, you can't do this anymore. You need to forget about your brother, put it behind you! I-I've never seen you like this... I know it's probably really hard for you, losing your twin...but you can't just sit in your room and cry all day! What about your health? Your job! What about me?" It was still quiet. Trish was almost in tears. "Dammit, Dante, answer me! I'm your friend! Don't I matter? Doesn't your own life matter?"

"...Nothing matters anymore. Nothing! Just leave me alone!" Trish opened her mouth again, but no words came. There was nothing more to be said and she knew this. She sighed, her voice shaky. It was clear what Dante wanted.

"Fine. You want to be alone so bad, then I'll leave! I can't stand being around you anymore! You're nothing more than a wimp!"

"Shut up!"

"I'm leaving, Dante! I don't ever want to see your face again!" Trish stomped off, grabbing the Sparda sword on her way out. As she closed the wooden doors behind her, forever walking out of Devil May Cry, she wiped away the tears the threatened to stream down her face. She wouldn't cry for him...

(oOoOoOoO**End Flashback**oOoOoOoO)

Dante refused to cry. It was the reason Trish had left him. The memory was all too painful, though. He hadn't meant to push her away like that, he had been so selfish. Maybe Vergil wasn't worth all the trouble. It had made Trish run away, and now it was forcing Alastor away. Alastor may be a demon, but he was loyal to Dante and the demon slayer knew this.

Maybe they had both been right. Maybe he was crying over nothing, and maybe Vergil really was a bastard...

But when Vergil gave his last breath, Dante felt as though something had been ripped right out of him. He knew it was not because they were brothers, or even twins. That had felt like a job more than anything. They had only been around each other for ten years of their lives. It was on that day, when he had first slit his wrists, that he had found the real reason why he had become so abruptly depressed.

He was _in love_ with his brother.

Ever since he had watched Vergil fall into that bottomless pit inside Temi-Ni-Gru, he knew that he had fallen hard for his only living family. But, now Dante questioned his love. It had been two months since he had first begun his self-destructive habits. None of it had made him feel any better about anything. Could the love he once had for Vergil be slowly ebbing away? Did that mean Alastor and Trish had been right...about everything?

But, as mentioned before, Dante is a very stubborn man. He would not let his futile crying go unjustified. Therfore, he defied the fact that Trish and Alastor had both been right, and that he had driven a good friend away. He denied the fact that all of this suffering had been his fault and that, the fact was, Vergil hadn't been haunting him at all. The fact of the matter was that, Dante's own unrequinted love and guilt had been the only thing haunting him for the last few months.

It was this conclusion that made Dante cry the hardest.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A word from the crazy side: OMGWTFCRY! ;-;

A word from the sensible side: Wow, that was probably one of the most depressing things I've written. Maybe it's just because I'm kind of depressed right now. x.X Be kind and review! Make my day! -.O

Oh, and you'll all be surprised that I'm posting **two chapters **instead of one. Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I thought I'd express my thanks to the fans by giving them another chapter.

And now...**Koneko's Notes to teh Fans!**

**_Kittyka666:_** Well, all I can say is that there will probably be less angst from here on out. Of course, the story will still be 'sad' at times. Dante isn't about to say 'I'm over everything now and I feel great! Let's bake some cookies! " Of course, that was an exaggeration, but you get my point.

**_KarasuKuro: _**Yeah, that last chapter was kinda wild. o.O

**_SaiyAsianMaki:_** Yay! Another artist!

_**Happy Thanksgiving!**_


	7. Superfluous Thrall

**Carnal Spark**

_I close my eyes_

_And see you before me_

_Think I would die_

_If you were to ignore me_

_A fool could see_

_Just how much I adore you_

_I get down on my knees_

_I'd do anything for you_

_--Eve 6 "I Touch Myself"_

+Seventh Spark: Superfluous Thrall+

If one were to say that a certain dark-haired demon was in love with a certain white-haired half-demon, then that person should be shot.

You see, Alastor's relations with his Master were merely beyond what humans could call _love_. Alastor, the electrical menace, was _bound_ to Dante, in every way. He was a slave. Although, the being 'in love' part played a role in there somewhere.

One might ask themselves, 'Why bring this up now? Wasn't Dante over there crying a minute ago?' Well, that's all good and true, but Alastor is a key factor in the fact that he had been part of the crying. No, he had not been crying as well. This is only because demons don't cry...or love for that matter.

Somehow, though, demons kept defying these two big no-no's everyday... I mean, look at Sparda--the father, not the son.

Anyway, the point is, the electrical demon had been involved in the crying. You see, when the word 'bound' is put in italics, it is throughly meant. As aforementioned, Alastor is bound to Dante in _every way_. This means, when Dante is angry, then Alastor is also a powerhouse of rage. When Dante smiles, Alastor grins the only way a once-sword spirit can; to the fullest. When Dante is depressed, the electrical spirit can feel his heart rip in two. And for those who really want to know, yes, the demon is aroused when Dante's 'in the mood'. Happy? I knew you would be. Back to the topic though, the red-eyed malevolent spirit(Well, he really wasn't all that evil. He just does evil things sometimes.)could feel a heavy weight upon his fabricated heart when the demon slayer in the next room over began to shed tears. Even though he could feel his master's pain, he did not understand the meaning of it. Which is why Dante and Alastor don't seem to get along so easily. The ruby-eyed demon may know what this master is feeling, but that doesn't necessarily mean he knows _why _the young Sparda is feeling it. This might explain why Alastor kept talking so badly around Vergil, in turn getting the ass-whooping of his life, and then have a glass shatter in his face.

Currently, the elemental demon was still sitting on the black sofa, wondering if Dante had finished crying. He could still feel the aching sadness, but the tension had let up some. He half-wondered if he should go check up on the ill slayer. A fourth of the other side of his brain told him that 'Sure, he should do that... If he wanted to die'. The final fourth of that same side of the brain told the other fourth of the brain that had mocked Alastor to 'Shut the hell up'.

Alastor vaguely wondered, with what little brain power he had left, if having a brain was a good thing at all...

The hesistant demon stood, after collecting the will power to do so, laying the blanket on the couch. He immediatley regretted it. As soon as his bare feet touched the ground, he was ready to crawl back under the blanket and not ever come out. Alastor sucked it up, then proceeded to walk to Dante's bedroom. With minimal feedback from the negative side of his brain, he let the door creak open a little. This was a precaution, since Dante might not be in a stable mood at the moment...and in case he decided to throw anything else today. When no deadly cups came hurteling at him from across the room, he opened the door wider, to see what exactly his master was doing. He peeked his face in. Alastor's red irises caught the sleeping figure of his master on his bed, the now-risen morning sun pouring over him. This could've been called romantic, if Alastor didn't feel threatened in the young Sparda's sleeping presence. This was understable of course, since Dante could awake at any moment and cause more bodily harm to his ex-sidekick. The black-haired demon padded his way across the cold floorboards, trying to keep very quiet. He stopped once at the edge of the bed, looking at a now serene face of a very emotionally chaotic half-demon. Alastor moved the white-haired slayer's haphazardly thrown-out arm away from the edge of the bed and next to his body. This gave the demon a place to sit, as to get a better look at his slumbering master. Alastor crawled next to his owner, trying to be as careful as possible not to wake him. He gave a small sigh, staring at Dante's calm face. It had been the first time in a day that he actually looked at peace with himself. Although, Alastor could tell all was not well within the young slayer.

He felt the pang of loneliness. This time, he knew what the cause of this feeling was: Vergil. It made Alastor feel lonely as well. It was hard having the one you care for hate you, _and_ love another person at the same time. If the demon could pout, he would've.

"...Why does he insist on keeping you from me?" Alastor seethed in lonely anger. "He doesn't even _care_ about you, yet...you seem to worship him. You won't even give me a kind word...and I've _served _you for _two_ years." The electrical spirit looked on forlornly. "...What do I have to do to get you to notice me, Master? Maybe I should've just made myself look like that bastard... At least, then, you wouldn't look at me with hate." The demon unconsciously found himself lowering his head towards the sleeping half-demon's lips. "If I'm destined to not have you...then let me have this," he said to particularly no one. Alastor's cold lips found his master's sun-baked ones. He connected with them softly, as to not disturb Dante. If the demon slayer ever found out, well, then, he would be doing a demon slaying job without getting paid.

And he would enjoy it better, too.

Alastor had never kissed anyone before. He probably wouldn't know what kissing was if he hadn't seen Trish do it a couple times to Dante's cheek. Of course, now that he was the one doing the kissing, he found it to be one of the most blissful things in the world. At least, one of the most blissful things he had ever encountered. Alastor let his body take control, even though the part of his mind that had mocked him earlier was telling him to 'Stop, right now' before he got a face full of lead. The demon scarcely registered the thought. His pale lips caught his master's bottom lip in between them, as he proceeded to suck slightly on it. He also licked it, savoring the taste. The demon doubted he would ever have another chance like this. Alastor lifted his head some, to check on his owner's expression. It was still calm. The red-eyed spirit told himself to stop now. What he had just experienced was more than he could ever ask for, but he had let his body control him sometime before. Alastor wanted to experience more of this 'kissing' phenemonan that he had just discovered. He vaguely wondered what the rest of his master's body tasted like. His lips had tasted salty, probably from tears before. Alastor decided to set to work. A buffet was laying before him, and he didn't have all the time in the world to try everything.

Softly, the electrical demon laid kisses on his master's forehead. He worked his way down slowly, taking time to suck on his owner's earlobe (this made Dante elicit a rather strange sound, but after some deliberation, Alastor decided he liked hearing it). The demon worked his way to Dante's neck, which had proved to be a playground for his tongue. He especially like running the pink muscle up his master's jugular vein, because he could feel the demon slayer's pulse there. He nipped at the skin right under his owner's jaw. Alastor had been surprised when the teased skin turned red. He hoped it wouldn't stay like that for very long.

Said red-eyed demon finally made his way down to Dante's chest, first dipping his hot tongue into his master's shirtless collarbone. He hadn't really noticed that the young Sparda was shirtless until now, but that didn't really matter at the moment. If anything at all, it just made the demon slayer's skin more accessible to Alastor's pale lips. At about this time though, Dante made his first movement in ten minutes. His head tossed to the side, his eyebrows furrowing. The once-sword knew that it wasn't in pain though.

Joy? Pleasure, perhaps? All the demon knew was, that the loneliness was slowly fading away. Instead, in its place was another strange feeling that took place in the pit of his stomach. He had never felt it before. It was odd...

After a few moments though, he paid no mind to it, as he kissed down his master's sternum. Dante made yet another noise. For some reason, it made Alastor smirk, the feeling in his stomach growing. This was about the time that Alastor noticed the two pink mounds on either side of his master's broad chest. He didn't really know what they were for. They didn't _seem_ to serve a purpose. Inquisitively, he lightly traced a thumb over the pink bud on the right side.

Dante sucked in a breath of air.

Alastor wondered for a moment if he had hurt his precious master, but Dante gave another contented sigh. So, knowing that whatever he did wasn't painful, the demon pressed on. This time, though, his mouth replaced his thumb. He sucked lightly, his tongue sliding across it. The demon slayer groaned and suddenly, that bubbly feeling in Alastor's stomach, moved south. The demon's mouth left the now-wet pink nub as he felt something poke his stomach.

And well, let's just say, that since the electrical demon doesn't bleed (because of protective layer of electrical particles right under his skin), that blood decided that it wanted to go somewhere. Believe me, it wasn't anywhere near his brain, or he would've stopped while he was ahe--.

He wouldn't be acting so coc--.

He would've realized that this was indeed a bad idea.

At about this time, Alastor decided to sit up, to see what _exactly_ had been poking him. He looked down to see that Dante's pants (they were red sweatpants he had changed himself into sometime when Alastor wasn't in the room) were now being pushed up by something. He supposed it was the thing that he had between his legs, as well. He had, afterall, modeled his body structure after his master's, seeing as he was the only man Alastor had seen naked (he had seen Sparda naked once before, but this had been before the Dark Knight had made himself a regular human body).

Now, with this being said, Alastor didn't really know what it was for. You see, ethereal creatures don't have to use the bathroom...so, therefore he wouldn't know the main function of _it_. He had seen his master do something with it once before...what was it again?

Supposedly, if you had this peculiar thing protruding from you lower regions, if you moved your fingers along it you would feel pleasure. He only knew this because Dante had looked so happy after he had done it. He had not been able to test this theory, and he wasn't about to touch Dante like that...

Some of you may be questioning this passage with something akin to 'How can Alastor not know what it is?' This is where being a sword for almost two millenia comes into play. So, you can imagine how confused the electrical spirit looks right now...or maybe not. Maybe you're just rooting for him.

While Alastor was still contemplating what he should do--since he was finished tasting the torso of his master's body--, Dante began to stir. No, I do not mean he was still in his little fantasy world. His eyes actually started to crack open. This caused Alastor to panic.

He had to do something, and quick...

oOoOoOoOoOoO

A word from the crazy side: ...(drool)OMGDEMONICSWORDONMANACTION!

A word from the sensible side: Well...I _guess_ you can call it a chapter. Or you can call it 'Fanservice Smut'. Or 'Fanservice Half-way Smut.' Sorry for putting in all those stupid jokes, I really couldn't resist. If I didn't, I can tell you this, the chapter would be _a lot_ shorter. In fact, I would probably have to change it to+Sixth and A Half Spark: Everything Tastes Better with Smut+ Especially with that song at the beginning. :P


End file.
